Saturday Morning, Las Vegas

The clock read 8:00 am as Scott lay back, his head resting on the pillows, the sound of Zelda’s unladylike snoring making him want to shove something in her mouth. He didn’t recall her snoring before and maybe he’d been too love drunk or too tired to care, but it sounded like a hungry bear had broken into their room and was threatening to eat him. Time was not his friend this morning.  His libido was awake, Zelda was not, and he was getting fidgety. Zelda made him feel like he was 13 all over again. 

Zelda turned over, one cute little butt cheek peeking at him, forcing what felt like all the blood in his body to his groin and creating a dull throb which could only be remedied by rubbing it against something soft and moist. He wasn’t a pig, and the thought of waking her up in a sexy way didn’t work either. She hadn’t read the diaries, and he didn’t know if that bastard father of hers had snuck into her room with some of his punishing techniques.  Either way, he needed her to wake up.  Using his knee, he nudged her hip, eliciting a catlike mewl from her, which only seemed to worsen his current state.  He nudged her again, this time placing his hand on her hip.  The warm skin under his fingers made him nearly moan as his right hand rubbed her flesh and somehow his left hand ended up under the covers with him touching himself to stop the nagging throb.

Scott whispered her name, “Zelda, baby, wake up.”

She moaned again.

One more moan and he was going to lose it.

“Zelda,” he said, pressing his hand into her hip. “Baby, wake up.”

A long, lean leg was flung across his as she turned over on her back, her skimpy pajama bottom lifting up to reveal her lack of underwear. One boob peeked at him, and the hand which was formerly on her side rested entirely too close to the sweet spot he needed.

“Good grief,” he sighed. Nudging her again, he wanted to take that taut nipple into his mouth and suck it until she cried out his name.  Instead, his hand slid up to her belly, pressing down as he said her name louder.

Her eyes fluttered open as his hand worked under the covers.

“Scott, what are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to wake up so I can share my feelings,” he said, still stroking himself.

She blinked several times, trying to focus on him, but her eyes were drawn to his hand under the covers. The idea of what he was doing to himself turned her on, her nipples hardening at the thought of him in such a state of need.

“Take what you need, Big Guy,” she said, curious as to what he was going to do.

He moved so quickly, she wasn’t certain of how she ended up face down, one breast in his hand while his fingers probed, preparing her. As quickly as her body responded, her pajama pants were off.  She felt the perfect, bulbous head pressing in between her thighs, sliding in, filling her, as her vaginal walls clung to him, and true to his word, five, deep, delicious strokes later, she was hitting her first orgasm as she clung to the side of the bed, shuddering through her release. Scott, on the other hand, was only warming up as his warm breath caressed the back of her neck, the hairy chest moving against her back, causing her to moan wantonly as he went even deeper.

“Dayyyyum,” she cried out as he lifted her leg, shifting his position, picking up a faster pace.

The first orgasm had barely subsided before the second began, this time bringing her Scottie along with her. A pillow crumpled in his hand as his body thrust hard, pumping life into her restless soul.

“You learned to do that at the age of 12?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, kissing her cheek.  “Good morning.”

“And a cockle-doodle do to you, too,” she managed to say after wiping the drool from her mouth.

He rolled off her, smacking her lightly on the ass. “Get up, get showered, and dressed.  I am taking you to breakfast and I have a surprise as well,” he said with a crooked, bucked toothed grin.

“Wasn’t that surprise enough?”

“Nope, wear long sleeves, pants, and closed-in shoes,” he said, bounding off the bed with a newfound energy.

“After what you just did to me, you seriously expect me to peel myself off this bed and get ready to go out?”

“Yep.  I have an exciting morning planned,” he said, jiggling her butt cheek.  “Let’s do this.”

“How about nope,” she said.

“Don’t want to hear it. Let’s move, Zelda girl.  All of this stuff surrounding us has been heavy.  I need some levity,” he told her, heading toward the bathroom.  She could hear the shower start as she tried to roll over, but couldn’t seem to muster the strength.

With a might of effort, she reached the bathroom, flopping down on the toilet to relieve herself as he hummed in the shower, soaping himself from head to toe. A slight muscle ache in her left butt cheek made her croak as she stood, moving slowly to join him behind the glass shower door. Her fingers trailed across his soapy back.

“You don’t have a single ounce of fat on you, yet I have never seen you work out.  You eat whatever you want. Tell me, Big Guy, how do you maintain all this sexy muscle mass?”

“There is a gym in the house, next to the dining room. It has a rowing machine and everything, but for cardio, I dance for an hour three times a week,” he told, adding soap to her sponge. “Turn around my spectacular woman, and let me wash your back.”

Turning, she placed her hands on the wall as he soaped her shoulders, hocks, and back of her thighs. Scott detached the shower head, rinsing the soap from her body, giving her the sponge. “You can wash your naughty bits while I get dressed.  Don’t take too long my lovely lady, we are going on a date,” he said, smiling sheepishly as he troweled himself.

“A date?”

“Yes, I have never taken you on a date before.  I think we need to get out and have some fun,” he said.  “Again, long sleeves, long pants, and some closed toe shoes.”

He said it and disappeared through the bathroom door.  Zelda showered quickly, dressing comfortably in a pair of loose-fitting slacks, long sleeves, and her favorite pair of kick-ass boots.  For good measure, since Scott said it was a date, she wore no bra and a low-cut undershirt. He was nowhere to be found in the room as she grabbed her phone, seeing the message from Pip, responding that she and her beau were headed out for the morning and would see her later.

Zelda arrived in the hotel lobby to find Scott in a well-fitted pair of jeans and the eye of every woman that passed him by. For the oddest reason, she hid behind a pillar watching him and his reactions as women blatantly flirted with him or made almost vulgar suggestions.  He never looked up except when the elevator dinged. The moment he lowered his head to the newspaper in his hand, she stepped from behind the pillar.

“Hey there, I hope this is okay,” she said, doing a little spin.

“Absolutely spectacular,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her out the door. Outside waiting for them was a Harley Davidson with a high rise bitch seat.

“I thought you said you didn’t drive?” she asked him.

“I said I couldn’t drive because of my eyes. That doesn't mean I don’t know how or can’t. My eyes are now fixed,” he said with a wink.  He threw a leg over the motorcycle, handing her the extra helmet.

Zelda stepped up, holding his shoulder and then throwing her leg over the seat.  Scott started up the bike and, through the speaker in the helmet, instructed her to hold on tight. Expertly, he maneuvered the motorcycle through the early morning traffic on the strip, riding down Las Vegas Boulevard, past the Fremont Experience, and out of the city.  Her arms clung around his waist as the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas was left in the rearview mirror.

This morning belonged to them.